Wizarding Ball
by Imagine69
Summary: 'It was a good thing they were both so competent at the waltz, because the intensity of their mutual gaze completely shut out the rest of the world, so much so that if they were any less coordinated they might well have danced right into the strings section.' Once Theseus finishes congratulating Yaxley, he finds Leta watching the dancer, and fulfils his promise to dance with her.


_"A son cruelly banished_

_Despair of the daughter_

_Return, great avenger_

_With wings from the water."_

The words echoed through Leta's mind. Her eyes, mesmerised by the dancer, following the ribbons of white as they twirled around and around through the air. She could see him now, her innocent baby brother, sinking deep into the icy depths of the ocean. No, the prophecy could not refer to Corvus. Corvus was dead – she had seen to that, and she would have to live with it.

The whispers around her began to grow, even as the music grew into a crescendo and the dancer spun around faster than ever.

'Look at her – what darkness lies beneath her beauty.'

'No good can come of a Lestrange.'

'Doesn't even seem pleased her brother might be alive.'

Leta closed her eyes, trying to shut out the whispers, but they only grew louder, and the image of a tiny body crystallised in her mind's eyes, floating downwards, followed by swirling ribbons of pure white.

'Leta. Leta!'

Leta opened her eyes, and for a moment the brightness of the room overwhelmed her. She stumbled, nearly knocking over old Gregory Prewett.

'Watch it!' the elderly man exclaimed in annoyance. But then he seemed to recognise her, and quickly slipped away.

'Woah, Leta.' Theseus caught her by her forearms and drew her away from the crowd. 'Leta, darling, what's wrong?'

Leta blinked rapidly, and everything came back into focus. Theseus was looking at her closely, eyes wide with concern, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Behind her, the crowd burst into applause as the dancer bowed delicately and swept away, her billowing ribbons of white and blue floating after her.

As the crowd began to mingle again, dispersing into small groups, conversations quickly flourished and the noise level increased rapidly.

'I'm fine, Theseus,' Leta said, forcing a smile. 'I just got dizzy for a moment there, watching the dancer spin around and all.'

Theseus didn't look convinced. He was still watching her closely, as if she was rare specimen of Venomous Tentacula. 'Darling, you're very pale. Perhaps we should-'

'No,' Leta said firmly. 'I'm fine now that you're here.' She smiled again, pleased that this statement was true. 'Besides,' she added, 'You promised we'd dance.'

'That I did,' Theseus said with a smile, though he still eyed her suspiciously. He took a step back and bowed deeply in her direction, offering up his left hand. 'May I have this dance?'

Leta took his hand with a delicate touch, and he pressed it to his lips. She grinned, 'You may.'

Theseus led Leta across the dance floor just as the orchestra began a lively waltz. The pair were accomplished dancers, trained from a young age. Even Leta, whose father had barely spared her any thought, had ensured that she be educated like a proper upper-class pureblood witch. And so, the ballroom lessons were set into her timetable, along with needlework, oil painting, fine dining etiquette, French, Latin and a thoroughly biased pureblood-mania version of magical history, in which Leta learn to memorise the names of all prominent pureblood members of society, especially those she might one day marry. Not that this education regime had worked – Leta had retained her ballroom dancing abilities but thrown all her family trees out the window. She had no idea of 'Scamander' had been on the list, nor did she care in the slightest.

Not now, when Theseus was twirling her about the dance floor, his eyes brimming with adoration. She felt his hand, warm and gentle, but holding hers with a firmness that told her he never wanted to let go. Theseus' other hand was on her band just beneath her shoulder blade, holding her close to him and steering her across the floor. This was all she needed now, to be whisked away into another world where it was just the two of them. She could spend the rest of her life just watching him, seeing his eyes gaze at her hungrily, his well-defined jawline framing that wonderful smile, so full of joy, of peace, of contentment, as if he too would like nothing more than to remain in this moment forever.

It was a good thing they were both so competent at the waltz, because the intensity of their mutual gaze completely shut out the rest of the world, so much so that if they were any less coordinated they might well have danced right into the strings section. As it was, Theseus and Leta found themselves on the complete opposite end of the dance floor when the final bars of the waltz faded into polite applause. The conductor raised his arms and took a bow on behalf of his musicians, and the dancers dispersed back into the crowd.

By this time, Leta had completely forgotten about the rumours concerning Corvus. She'd been so protected in Theseus' arms, loved more strongly than she'd ever known, utterly isolated from the real world. If only it could last.

But Theseus let go of her hand to fetch some drinks, and the whispers began again.

'There she is, Lestrange. Very strange.'

'Could it be true?'

'Her brother will free wizardkind.'

'We will rule as is our right.'

Leta slowly dislodged herself from the crowd and find a corner to bide in until Theseus came to find her. She was good at hiding places, having had a great amount of practice while at school. She'd discovered sixteen hidden shadowy crevices throughout the castle, plus three secret passageways to Hogsmeade, should she really need an escape. Newt was the only other person to know about them.

'There you are.' Theseus passed her a glass of Muggle champagne. She took it, her eyes still watching the crowd blankly. Theseus sighed. 'Leta, I know there have been rumours…'

'My brother's dead, Theseus,' she said flatly. 'He's dead and no amount of poetry is going to bring him back.'

'I know, darling.' Theseus set his glass aside and took her free hand in both of his. 'The Wizarding community is small; there will always be rumours. They're rich and bored and need to fill their heads with nonsense. They used to think you'd fed me love potion, remember?'

This drew a smile out of Leta, which in turn brought a smile of Theseus' face. 'There,' he said. 'And that was utter nonsense, wasn't it?'

Leta grinned cheekily. 'Or was it?' she teased. 'For all you know, you could be under a love potion right now.'

Theseus pressed his lips to her forehead. 'Well, if I am, I don't care in the slightest.'


End file.
